


Don't take this the wrong way

by ladyofrosefire



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Don't copy to another site, Healing, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:01:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22125253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofrosefire/pseuds/ladyofrosefire
Summary: In which Darrow soothes Fjord's injured pride after their very one-sided fight.
Relationships: Fjord/Darrow
Comments: 66
Kudos: 264





	Don't take this the wrong way

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to NotAFicWriter and Damoselmaledisant for beta-reading ♥️
> 
> Title from "Someone New" by Hozier

Fjord tries not to glower over his cup as Darrow approaches him. He doesn’t think he succeeds.

“I like the hat. It’s very…” he gestures in the vague shape of the rider’s hat sitting on Fjord’s head. Then he frowns. “Didn’t you used to—nevermind. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” He knows he sounds like a petulant child, but he can’t seem to help it. Every inch of his body feels like shit. Trodden-on shit, with layered aches and bruises and his fucking stomach aching.

Darrow is still talking.

“Sorry,” Fjord sighs, “you were saying?”

“Did the healers miss you?” Darrow lays a careful hand on Fjord’s shoulder as he looks him over. “May I?”

Because he really would look like an idiot if he didn’t, Fjord nods. Refusing the healer was one thing. Ducking out from under Darrow’s hand is more complicated. A near-painful warmth spills from beneath his hand, coursing along every aching muscle fiber and strained ligament. His bruises ache. His back hurts. And then the hurting goes away, mostly. He still feels like he’s been beaten into the dirt, but at least he feels like a person again.

“…Thanks,” Fjord mutters. He raises his drink in a toast and drains the last of it. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“Probably not, but I think your friends would be upset if I let you go home like this.”

His mouth twists. “That was impressive, that fight. From your end.”

“You had some interesting moves yourself. The armor? Did I see you do that before?”

Darrow’s smile is very friendly and very bright, and Fjord kind of wants to punch him in it, and mostly wants it to stop making his chest knot up. He forces a smile of his own and rubs the back of his neck. It doesn’t ache anymore, thank Melora. Whatever that smite had been had left his head ringing.

“Quite possibly,” Fjord shrugs. “I honestly don’t remember. It seems so long ago.”

“You’ve done well for yourself since then.” Darrow looks him over, then, and Fjord’s stomach performs a dizzying lurch from irritation to embarrassment to a low kernel of heat. “We could get another drink if you want to tell me about it?”

That startles him into laughter, although the knot in his chest does not loosen. All he can think is that the _least_ incriminating thing he can talk about is their time as pirates.

“I’m afraid most of that is need-to-know.”

“That’s a shame,” Darrow even sounds sincere. He reaches out to clasp Fjord’s shoulder again and, this time does not let go. “We’ll just have to find something else to talk about.”

Fjord’s mouth goes dry. “Right.”

“If you’d prefer, we could go somewhere quieter. Share a few more drinks. Take the edge off.” He runs his hand down Fjord’s arm. “I think I owe you one after that.”

Fjord draws a slow breath, fighting down his pride. “You got us all a few before… but I’ll take you up on it.”

Darrow takes him up to a small, warm room above the inn, the sounds of chatter from downstairs filtering up through the floor. He does not so much as glance at the bottle of whiskey by the washbasin before leaning in to mouth at the side of Fjord’s neck, hands coming to the buckles of his armor. Fjord’s back meets the door, and a moment later, he tilts his head to let him in. He gets a sharp bite for his trouble, Darrow’s tongue smoothing over it to chase away the sting. He locks his jaw to keep himself silent.

“Let me hear you,” Darrow murmurs, mouth hot against Fjord’s ear. He reaches down and squeezes his ass, and Fjord swallows the whine that rises in his throat. “I bet I can make you scream for me by the end of the night.”

His knees turn wobbly. He blames it on being unconscious half an hour previously. “How much?”

When Darrow laughs, it rumbles through both of them.

Fjord blinks his eyes open. This close, it’s obvious that Darrow has an inch or two on him. He gets a slow smile and liquid heat crawling up his spine. Swallowing hard, he leans in to press his mouth to Darrow’s. He ends up with his back pressed to the door while Darrow tugs open the buckles and straps of his armor. The scale mail is harder to undo—Fjord’s breastplate tumbles to the floor by the time he gets half of it unfastened. Darrow helps him with the rest before going for his bracers. Piece by piece, their armor comes away. Fjord tenses and flexes tired muscles as Darrow rubs his palms over his chest.

“What’s that for?” He catches Fjord’s chin, thumb rubbing across his lower lip. “Relax. Let me take care of you.”

Fjord glances away, jaw working, then nods once.

Darrow kisses him again, nudging one leg between his thighs and drawing Fjord against it with the hand on his ass. He lets himself be guided in a long, slow grind, curling his hands in the back of Darrow’s shirt. Muscle shifts under his palms. Biting back a groan, he drags at cloth and seams until he can get his hands on warm skin. He has to stop for a moment as Darrow reciprocates, drawing Fjord’s shirt over his head in a smooth motion.

“Gods, but you’re something…” One callused hand fits to his chest.

“You’re quite impressive yourself.” He cannot help his rising flush as he says it, and he bites back a grumble as Darrow chases it across one cheek.

They end up pressed chest to chest, and Fjord tips his head up so they can keep kissing. Step by step, they move back toward the bed. It had looked sturdy before, but he still holds his breath as he drops onto it, Darrow following him down. There’s a soft creak from the slats holding the mattress, but nothing ominous. Fjord sighs. Darrow’s laugh tickles his cheek and rumbles through his chest.

He goes for another kiss just before Darrow sits up. “Hold on, friend. I want to get a look at you.” He tugs the laces free of Fjord’s trousers, a broad, bright smile on his lips.

Fjord shoves at his shorts. Together, they get them and his pants off his legs. Darrow nudges his thighs apart with warm, callused hands and then cups his cock. It fills under his hand, Fjord gasps, and Darrow laughs.

“Something funny?”

“I like the face you make. Like you’re surprised how good it feels.” He squeezes, just a little.

Fjord squeezes his eyes shut. “You aren’t my first.”

“I don’t mind. You just keep enjoying yourself.”

Darrow bites at his throat and his shoulder as he settles between his thighs. Fjord grinds up against him. He clutches his shoulders, his back. He fumbles between them for the laces of Darrow’s pants only to have a hand curl gently but firmly around his wrist. There’s a beat, a moment of eye contact, and then Fjord nods. Darrow kisses the backs of his knuckles before pressing his hand to the mattress.

“Anywhere you don’t want my mouth?” he asks and bites at Fjord’s chest while he’s still tripping over the implications of the question.

“Nope. That’s—” he swallows a moan as Darrow’s tongue drags over one nipple. “Oh, fuck me.”

“I’ll get there. Hold on.”

Fjord’s throat bobs, and he nods, staring up at the ceiling while Darrow slowly works his way down. He’s thorough about it, biting where he’s somehow unmarked and kissing the half-healed bruises from the earlier ass-kicking. He grimaces for a moment before Darrow latches on just above a bruise on his ribs and _sucks_.

Arching, Fjord scrabbles at Darrow’s back, nails leaving long lines along his spine before he catches his braid. He lets go almost immediately. “Sorry, is that—”

“I’m a little surprised it took you this long. Close to my head is fine.” He guides one of Fjord’s hands back to the base of his neck before he leans in again.

Heat blooms in the wake of Darrow’s mouth, trailing over his hip.

Fjord clears his throat. “Not that—that isn’t very promising, but it feels a little one-sided.” A short, dry laugh breaks from him. “Again.”

Darrow looks up with a smile and a tilt to his head. “How could I say no?” Then he sits up, opening his arms. “Where do you want me?”

“Up here.”

Fjord kisses him, first, tongue in his mouth, careful of the nubs of his tusks as he holds Darrow’s face between his palms. Then he goes again for the laces of his pants, unraveling them slowly to feel Darrow buck against his hands. He gets one more kiss before he moves aside so Darrow can sit and lies down between his legs.

Darrow sucks in a heavy breath as Fjord licks a stripe up his cock. He goes slowly at first, all open-mouthed kisses and lazy strokes of his tongue. Above him, Darrow gasps and groans. He clenches one hand on the headboard and curls the other into Fjord’s hair. He groans, and Darrow tightens his grip.

Then Fjord guides the head of his cock into his mouth and sucks. He’s done this enough to know he loves it—salt on his tongue, the weight of it in his mouth, the ragged exhales as he works his way down. Darrow’s cock is both long and thick, and he makes a disbelieving noise as Fjord opens his jaw wide and takes him to the root. A soft hum convinces him to start rocking his hips—not _thrusting_ , not what Fjord wants, somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach, but it’s good. So are the low, laughing moans Darrow lets out without anything like shame.

Darrow pulls him off after another minute, panting heavily. “ _Fucking_ hells, that’s…” His thumb rubs across Fjord’s lower lip. “My turn now.”

They resettle again, Darrow biting at his chest as he pins Fjord flat on the bed and pushes his thighs apart. He wastes no time sliding back to where he had been before, mouthing hot at Fjord’s hip. Then Darrow ducks down farther, kisses the base of his cock, and keeps going. He moves past his balls and _down—_

Fjord yelps, and the slow pleasure abates as Darrow looks up. “No?” he asks, rubbing one finger through the spit he left behind on Fjord’s skin.

“I’ve never…” Fjord clears his throat. Then he frees the pillow from under his head and shoves it beneath the small of his back, instead. “Okay.”

“I’ll go slow.”

Fjord would protest if the way Darrow said it didn’t imply that was how he preferred it. He ends up with his legs open wide, the beginnings of an ache in his thighs from the stretch, and Darrow’s hands under his hips. He knows to expect the tongue now, but the renewed touch makes him tense. Darrow licks over him a second time, and this time, the pleasure hits him. Fjord’s mouth falls open. The third touch draws a groan from him, low and uneven. It hitches up at the end as Darrow’s tongue presses harder against him.

Darrow takes him apart. Fjord shoves his knuckles in his mouth and bites down, back arching, thighs trembling. It’s so _odd_ that it maybe shouldn’t do anything for him, but the flick and stroke of Darrow’s tongue send heat curling through him. He whines, tensing against it, and feels a chuckle right up against his rim. And then there’s nothing he can do but relax and let it happen, Darrow wringing muffled cries from him with each curl of his tongue. His cock is a hot line against his stomach.

“Not that—not that this isn’t _fucking_ wonderful,” he groans, “but, gods, _please_ …”

Darrow sits up, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “Hold on just a minute, my friend.”

He uses a swig of the whiskey to rinse his mouth, which seems like a waste, but Fjord doesn’t comment. Especially when Darrow’s next move is to gather up a familiar vial and pop the cap. Obligingly, he cants up his hips.

“Just a little longer,” he murmurs, settling again between Fjord’s thighs. “I made you a promise.”

“Remind me what that was again?” Fjord teases. His back arches as Darrow sinks two slick fingers into his ass.

This is familiar. He’s relaxed enough from Darrow’s tongue that it only burns a little, and it’s a sweet burn, a familiar stretch that has him rolling his hips down into it almost immediately.

“Slow down,” Darrow bites at his chest, “I’m planning to keep you here for a while.”

“Don’t let me talk you out of it.”

Fjord takes the steadiest breaths he can and keeps rocking against Darrow’s fingers as he curls them and pumps slowly. The search doesn’t take long. Both fingers rub smoothly against his prostate, and Fjord yelps before he can get his hand back over his mouth.

Darrow reaches up with his other hand to take Fjord’s wrist. “Will you let me hear you?” When Fjord hesitates, he catches his gaze as he crooks his fingers deliberately. “The sounds you make…”

He nods and lets his hand relax in Darrow’s grip.

Two fingers become three, liberally coated with slick and sliding in and out of his ass with wet sounds that should feel filthy, but mostly make Fjord’s toes curl and his chest feel hot and tight. His cock leaks against his stomach, and when he goes to touch it, Darrow does not stop him. He strokes in time with the slow rhythm of Darrow’s fingers, even though it makes him pant and whine and grind down against the fingers spreading him wide.

“That’s it,” Darrow encourages. “You want my cock in you?”

“ _Yes_.”

Fjord whines as Darrow withdraws his fingers, clenching against the sudden emptiness. Then he turns himself over onto his hands and knees.

“Okay.” Darrow huffs, a smile evident in his voice as he kneels up behind Fjord. The bottle’s stopper pops free, and a soft groan accompanies the sound of him dragging his fingers over his cock. “Okay. Ready?”

“I swear if you ask me one more time…” Fjord cannot help but smile as well as he arches his back.

“I’ve got you.”

Darrow eases the head of his cock in, and Fjord groans in relief. He rocks forward another inch before he draws back again. Each slow thrust pushes a little deeper. It’s so good that Fjord doesn’t mind the teasing as long as Darrow doesn’t _stop_. He does pause for a moment to rub another palmful of slick onto his cock before he pushes forward the last inch, hips flush to Fjord’s ass. The heat and stretch rob him off all his air, stealing it away on a shaky, grateful moan.

Maybe he should wait and breathe for a moment longer, but he can feel a tremor in Darrow’s thighs, and the _not moving_ makes his skin feel too small.

Darrow still goes easy, at first, drawing back slowly and clutching at Fjord’s hips hard enough he thinks he might get a fresh layer of bruises, but pushing forward again as if he isn’t panting with the effort.

“Come on,” Fjord urges, “I’m not going to go to pieces.”

The next thrust is harder, wringing a cry from him that he would have been embarrassed about just half an hour ago. But it spurs Darrow on, and that is all he cares about right now. Hot, heavy pleasure rolling up his spine and dragging at his insides. He moans again and arches his back to get it deeper.

Darrow folds over Fjord back, one hand braced beside him on the pillow, and fucks him harder. His moans sound beside Fjord’s ear.

“Fuck, you’re a _furnace_ …” Darrow mouths at his neck and bites the back of his shoulder.

The bruise he raises is a sweet ache, and Fjord clenches down, burying his face against his arms.

Fjord does scream, at the end of it, muffled with his teeth in his arm and Darrow’s hand on his cock as he thrusts into him hard enough to knock the headboard against the wall. The neighbors probably hate them, and he does not give a single fuck. Darrow comes a moment later, groan dissolving into laughter as his hips stutter and still. Fjord holds up for another moment before collapsing onto his belly and letting Darrow pin him to the mattress.

They remain there while Darrow slowly goes soft inside him, sweat drying on their skin. Eventually, though, Fjord gets sick of lying in the wet patch and makes as if to shove himself upward. Darrow sighs heavily, gives Fjord a firm pat on the ass, and then carefully pulls out.

“I’ll get you a cloth.” Darrow pushes himself up and stumbles to the basin.

He gets two and wipes himself down with one on the way back to the bed. With the other, he gently wipes away the mess streaking Fjord’s thighs as he scatters kisses over the backs of his shoulders.

“How kind…” he smiles, glancing back over his shoulder.

“I said I was going to take care of you. There’s a washroom at the end of the hall for the rest.”

Fjord pushes himself slowly to his feet, wincing as his body makes it known that he has asked too much of it for the day. It can complain all it wants, later. But he pauses as he wraps one of the room’s towels around his waist, jaw working. “Darrow…”

“You need to get back to your friends?” he finishes for him.

Fjord nods. “Jester’s going to worry if I don’t come back soon.”

Darrow goes to him, hands curling around Fjord’s waist. “Don’t feel bad. I enjoyed that. I think you did, too. Maybe next time we run into each other, we could do this again?”

Fjord ducks his head on a low laugh. “Rematch?”

“That, too, if you like.” He lingers for a moment longer and then raises one hand, brushing his thumb over Fjord’s mouth in a suggestion of a kiss. Then he lets go. “Tell your friends I said hello.”

At that, Fjord sputters. “I will… do that.”

Then he collects his clothes and his armor and makes his way to the baths.

The hot soak and his own small dose of Lay on Hands eases enough of the soreness that Fjord does not have to limp back to the inn. He takes his time, though, wandering through the Rexxentrum streets and breathing in the cool night air.

And the whole walk back, he smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> The author thrives on comments! ♥️♥️♥️


End file.
